McGonagall's Flask
by WiseGryffindor
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is devastated after the war. How will she cope?


**Reversed: Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Issues, Resisting Transition**

**7\. [character] Minerva McGonagall**

**15\. [object] Flask**

/

Minerva McGonagall sat at a wooden desk, unmoving. She neither blinked nor appeared to be breathing. It was as if she was dead, but any who fought in the war would have recognized what was happening to her. It happened to them every time they stopped for even a second.

Every time her eyes closed, even just to blink, she would see someone who died, who had so much life left to live. Sometimes it would be Fred, sometimes Colin, sometimes Lavender, she could never get away from it. She would see Pavari and Ginny being tortured by the Carrows as she stood watching, not doing anything to help her students.

It felt as if the whole world had disappeared. Everyone expected her to return as the headmistress, but she couldn't even bear the thought of returning. Every student who died, not just those in her own house, left their mark on Minerva. An unseen mark but a mark none the less.

Each and every one of them were like her own children, she taught them and raised them while they were away from their homes. She never had the urge to have children of her own because it felt like every student she taught was one of her children. But now she was glad she didn't have children of her own because they would make her nightmares so much worse. It was already hard enough to bear the memories. To not just spend the day crying, shedding tears for all of those she cared for.

During the day it was bad but not as bad as night. As the darkness approached so did all the ghosts that haunted her. Children saying she failed in her duty to protect them. Friends telling her that she was the reason the students died and were tortured.

With a shaking hand, she would grab her father's flask. Very carefully she would unscrew it and take a swig, drowning her sorrows in the bitter-tasting alcohol. It was old and worn. The McGonagall family crest being worn away by time and use. The drink would wash away all the memories, the good, and the bad. It only lasted for a few hours then the world would go back to the one where everyone she cared about was dead or had suffered too much. The whole of Magical Brittan was in mourning. Everyone knew at least one person who died, but Minerva knew almost all of them, she taught them and cared for them.

Even those who fought for the dark, she mourned because she knew that they weren't all bad, some were misled, or brought up with the prejudice installed in them by their parents, and their parents before them. It was a never-ending cycle. It is natural for parents to teach their kids what their parents taught them, and as their grandparents were taught by their parents. It would go on forever, never changing, the cycle would continue.

/

Years passed but she never forgot all those she watched die. She pulled out the well-worn flask and took a swig of the once bitter liquid. Her hand shook as she set the flask on her desk. Many times the Ministery asked her to return to teaching, but she couldn't do it. Eventually, she told them no. She could never return to that place. The place once filled with good memories was now clouded by the bad.

The day she read in the paper that Harry Potter's children were leaving for school, she was sad that she wouldn't be there to watch them grow, but then she remembered three other kids, so bright and happy. Who left so different than when they came. So broken because of the war, and all the trouble they encountered, because of the people who didn't think of how their words or actions hurt those around them.

She never wanted to return to that place, ever. It built friendships and good people, but in the same breath, it killed them, destroying friendships and families.

/

Minerva knew she had an alcohol problem but she couldn't bring herself to care. Everything and one she cared for was gone, she had nothing left to live for. She died peacefully in her sleep and wasn't found until days later.

The funeral was held in Godrics Hollow, she may have had no family left, but that didn't mean she was forgotten. Hermione Granger planned, organized and paid for the whole thing. Minerva was her favourite teacher at school and someone she trusted and loved like a parent.

The funeral was on September 1st. The simple cream room added to the sober atmosphere of the affair. The casket was a rich dark oak. In front of the casket lay a red and gold reef with a few blue, yellow and green flowers.

Many people spoke about Minerva and what kind of person she was, but Hermione's and Harry's words stood out the most.

"Minerva McGonagall was the first person who really cared for me after my parent's death. She protected me and tried her best to keep me safe. She argued against Dumbledor because he was doing something she thought was wrong. She didn't back down from anything and she never gave up. She taught me to be strong and to never back down," Harry Potter said in a shaky voice.

"Minerva McGonagall was my inspiration. I wanted to be just like her, strict but kind. She was so much more than that. She was more than a teacher, she was a friend and a protector. She did what was right, rather than what was easy. She never gave up and was a true Gryffindor Lion. After the war, she blamed herself for every student's death. None of them were actually her fault, but she blamed herself for not saving them, for not protecting them. She protected many students, but she only remembered the ones she didn't. For that reason, she is my hero, my inspiration. You will be missed by all who had the pleasure to be taught by you," Hermione Granger spoke to the assembled crowd, tears running down her face.


End file.
